


Thank Me Harder

by Calliope Starling (CitrusApple)



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Music, Sexual Content, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Some Plot, but also hard, gratitude, jaskier singing, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23319124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CitrusApple/pseuds/Calliope%20Starling
Summary: Jaskier does a lot for Geralt. Geralt thanks him with his cock.And some gifts.Mostly the cock, though.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 28
Kudos: 534





	Thank Me Harder

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers!
> 
> How is everyone managing with their quarantines? My job has been considered essential, so I've been doing my part by staying home when I am not working and being extremely cautious on the job.
> 
> During my time staying home, I have finished this fic and am also working on a Geraskier chapter story. Spoiler alert: they will be switches in that one. :D  
> I've also been listening to The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil and sweet jizz of Hades, is that a good album!
> 
> The sexy bits for this fic are partly inspired by this fUCKING GORGEOUS and very NSFW work of art by thebardjaskier on Twitter:  
> https://twitter.com/thebardjaskier/status/1229528786846306307  
> Make sure to give her a follow!
> 
> I'm sure many of us have turned to this site to read and write to help us get through, take our minds off of things for a bit. So I hope this little fic of mine provides some reprieve, dear witchlings.
> 
> Happy reading!

“This the place, Jaskier?”

Jaskier pored over the note in his hand. “The Scarlet Clarion,” he read.

“Sign says so.”

“Splendid. Come then, Geralt.”

Jaskier had received the invitation to perform with a troupe at the inn a fortnight prior and had convinced Geralt to accompany him for the trip. And the witcher had agreed, on the condition that Jaskier would be okay with him seeking out contracts along the way.

Luck had been on Geralt’s side and he’d come across three larger ones; a forktail, a noonwraith, and a rock troll – not one of the chatty ones. They’d each paid surprisingly well and the heft of the coin pouch in Geralt’s hand gave him great contentment.

Jaskier burst dramatically through the door of the inn, as he was wont to do, and gasped at the sight. “Gods, Geralt, look at this place!”

Even Geralt had to admit he was impressed. The establishment was clearly one of luxury, a place you could only afford to frequent were you of nobility. Three floors were dressed to the nines with the finest furnishings, the rarest plants, and the most expensive kinds of food and wine. The owner had spared no coin, and the patrons weren’t sparing theirs either.

Geralt’s attention turned back to Jaskier, who was busy gawking at the amethyst colored drapery that made the stage’s backdrop.

“Geralt, can we live here?”

“Sure, I’ll have my servants draw up the lease papers.”

“Hmph. Well, at least we can live here for the night. Geralt, would you mind checking us in? I must meet with the troupe.”

“Hmm. Fine.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips, his elbow bumping gently against the lute strapped to his back. “Sulking, Geralt? Even now, in this fantastically gorgeous inn where we’ll be basking in luxuries for the entirety of the next day, thanks to my finely-honed talents?” Geralt’s response was no more than a blink and Jaskier scoffed at him for it. “Go then,” Jaskier directed as he pointed to the bar. “Go brood over there as you check us in. I shall sashay away from your mood lest it sullies mine.” The bard turned on his heels and headed over to the other musicians.

The corner of Geralt’s mouth turned up into a smirk as he did as told and approached the bar. A well-dressed man with dark hair saw him coming and came to the counter to greet him.

“A good late afternoon to you, Master Witcher. My name is Higgins, and I’m the proprietor of the Scarlet Clarion. How may I serve you today?”

“Greetings. Call me Geralt. I’m checking in with Jaskier. He’s the lute player in the troupe that’s performing this evening.”

Higgins turned to an open ledger that was sitting on the end of the counter and ran his finger over the page. “Jaskier… Jaskier… Aha, here we are. One room with lodging costs included in his payment so I’ll not need coin from you for that. Meals, baths, and other services will still require coin. Jaskier will receive the rest of his pay when the performance concludes.”

“That’s fine,” Geralt said. He looked over at Jaskier to see him sitting on the bottom of the steps that lead up to the stage, tuning his lute. “Higgins, do you take requests for certain rooms?”

Higgins tilted his head as he thought. “I don’t believe we’ve received requests before… but as we aren’t set to be stuffed to the rafters for the night, I can try to accommodate. Have you a specific room in mind?”

“Wanted to know if we could have one the sound didn’t travel to as much.”

Jaskier glanced Geralt’s way at overhearing that. The witcher had never requested specific rooms before, and if noise was ever a problem for him, he’d never said such to Jaskier. The bard hoped he wasn’t planning on skipping out on the performance.

Higgins smiled understandingly. “Ah, because of your heightened hearing?”

“Uh… yeah.”

“Well, I can give you a room on the top floor,” Higgins answered as he fetched a key for Geralt. “Go all the way up the stairs and straight on. It’s the last one at the end of the hall and it’s the furthest from the stage, so the music and other ruckus shan’t bother you. Just the one bed, mind, but it’s a large one. Should suit both you and Jaskier fine, but if not, there is a lovely settee in the room as well.”

Geralt took the key and stuck it in a pouch. “Sounds perfect. Thanks.”

“Will the gentlemen require any other services tonight? Baths? Laundry?”

Jaskier started to shuffle forward on the floor to better hear the conversation, but his attempt was thwarted by another member of the troupe who’d decided to begin tuning his hurdy-gurdy that very moment. The bard rose quickly and dashed for the other musician.

“Hold off for a second, will you?” Jaskier urged, even going so far as to place his palm gently over the strings to silence it. But when he turned his head back, he found that the conversation had just finished and Geralt was hauling their belongings up the stairs. “Bollocks.”

Jaskier felt a smack on his hand and startled back to the other musician who was now holding his hurdy-gurdy out of reach.

“Don’t touch Vielle!”

“Right,” Jaskier murmured as he thumbed the reddened skin on the back of his hand. “Sorry.”

He sat with his lute to finish tuning it and idly strummed a progression of chords until he saw Geralt descend the stairs back to the common area. Jaskier stood and followed him as he picked a table in a corner, naturally.

“Must you always, Geralt? Come sit up front tonight.”

“I’m good.”

Jaskier sat across from him, his expression one of concern. “Are you alright, Geralt? You’ve seemed kind of tense since we started the journey here.”

“I’m always tense, bard.”

“More than usual, then.”

“I’m _good_ , Jaskier. Believe me.”

Jaskier did not believe him, but he didn’t want to press Geralt too hard. Not after what had happened on the mountain months ago.

Though his spirit was always one of optimism and cheer, Jaskier was mature enough to admit that approaching Geralt with such mirth at that moment when he’d needed some space was perhaps not the most helpful thing. The harsh words he’d received over it still were not deserved, but Geralt had come to his senses later on and tracked down the bard. The apology was strained, forced through the witcher’s throat. But it was genuine through and through, and Jaskier readily forgave him.

Ever since, the bard had been trying his best to look out for Geralt in softer, less verbal ways. Polishing a sword as the witcher slept. Massaging knots out of his overworked muscles. Giving Roach a good brushing or shining her saddle. Stroking his hair or rubbing his back if he appeared to need comforting. He wanted to be attuned to Geralt’s thoughts and needs without stepping over those walls. Best to try the door first.

“How’s that knot behind your shoulder feeling? I don’t have a lot of time, but do you need a quick massage?” Jaskier offered.

“It’s okay for now,” Geralt responded.

“You should have bathed with me this morning, Geralt. I had the chamomile out. But if you’re sure you’re okay, I’ll leave off.” Jaskier stood and patted his other shoulder. “I would enjoy your presence in the ‘front row’ if you’re amenable, though.”

Geralt released a puff of air through his nose. “Gonna croon your new ballads tonight?”

“Not this eve, I’m afraid. The other musicians and I haven’t met before now. We’re just playing a set of classics. With ‘Toss a Coin’ thrown in, of course.” Jaskier paused to leer in the direction of the others. “The likes of which hurdy-gurdy man over there thinks he’s going to lead. Can you believe the gall? _My_ song, Geralt, and he thinks he gets to lead it!”

“Hmm. Let him. Maybe he just wants to learn it the right way for his own performances.”

Jaskier pouted and crossed his arms. “If he misses that three-quarter measure, I’ll expect you to leap up and gut him, then.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what that means. And I’m not gutting him for no good reason.”

Jaskier gaped at him. “That measure is the penultimate to the climax, Geralt! Keeping the fourth beat in it ruins the whole integrity of the piece!” His rant received another blank stare. “Ugh. Forget it.”

“Hmm. You want dinner before you sing?”

Jaskier nodded. “I have to inform the others about that measure or it’ll vex me all evening. Will you order me something? You know what I like. No cheese, though… I need to keep my throat clear.” The witcher nodded and Jaskier gave his arm a light squeeze. “Thank you.”

Geralt stood and returned to the bar, Higgins coming right over as he spotted him.

“Hello again, Geralt. Placing a dinner order, perhaps? We have a scrumptious boeuf bourguignon on the menu tonight, if that pleases your palate.”

“That’ll do fine. Two servings of that, please. Grapes too, if you have them.”

Higgins jotted everything down. “An excellent choice. Anything else?”

Geralt thought for a moment, a small smile spreading the corners of his mouth as he looked back over at Jaskier. “Can I put a special order in for later?”

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Geralt did acquiesce after they’d finished dinner, bringing his wine to the “front row” table that was closest to the stairs. Jaskier’s eyes sparkled with mirth as he saw Geralt there upon taking the stage with the troupe.

The rest of the tables filled up quick, the nobility eager to hear the ensemble, hand-picked by Higgins as they were each considered musicians of the highest echelon. And dressed they were for it, decked out in expensive fabrics and plumed hats and baubles. Jaskier’s outfit was new too, a cobalt quilted doublet with silver trim and fastenings, and trousers to match.

Geralt would have felt underdressed if he gave a shit. Luckily, nobody expected witchers to dress up. Even Jaskier had left him alone about it after the “sad silk trader” comment, which he now regretted not having thanked Mousesack for.

The troupe started their set with two instrumental pieces, both unfamiliar to Geralt, but nice tunes all the same. “Toss a Coin” followed that, and normally Geralt would shy away from the crowds when Jaskier played it, embarrassed by the sudden focus on his own presence. But he watched intently this time as Jaskier and the hurdy-gurdy player stood next to each other at the front of the stage, interested in how it was going to play out.

Much to Geralt’s surprise, the hurdy-gurdy player only joined in vocally during the refrains, taking a lower harmony that complemented Jaskier’s melody nicely. They didn’t need to get along to sound good together, Geralt figured. The patrons loved it, though Geralt knew he was the only one who could see the fire behind the eyes of Jaskier’s convincing smile, a smoldering thing which didn’t flicker out until after the three-quarter measure. Geralt picked up on where that was when Jaskier turned to the troupe and cued them through the measure as he held out his high F.

After the song had finished and Jaskier was taking his bow, Geralt swallowed the last of his wine and moved from the table. Jaskier looked in Geralt’s direction to see him pull out the chair for a lady who had been standing nearby as he offered her his seat. He frowned momentarily as he watched Geralt say something to Higgins before he ascended the stairs without even a wave to let Jaskier know he was leaving. So he had been planning on skipping the show after all. But Jaskier didn’t have time to mull over the possible reasons why Geralt had already had enough. He had a set to finish.

Once the encore had concluded and Jaskier had made the necessary pleasantries and collected his pay from Higgins, he set off for his and Geralt’s room with a lump in his throat and a thump in his heart. He feared the answer, but he had to persuade Geralt to explain why he’d been acting how he was.

What he saw when he opened the door certainly wasn’t expected.

Extra candles illuminated the room with a cozy glow. Vases filled with honeysuckle were placed on the bureau and the writing desk. Geralt stood from where he’d been sitting on the bed, donned in a clean white shirt and black leathers. He’d bathed and washed his hair, the alabaster mane tamed down and neatly combed.

Jaskier closed the door and set his lute down. “Geralt, what’s all this?”

Geralt waved him over to the small dining table and two chairs. “Thought you might want some dessert,” the witcher answered, not including where the flowers had come from, or where he’d gotten that _white_ shirt.

Jaskier followed him to the table where a dish and two forks were neatly placed. “Is that a chocolate soufflé?”

“Mhm. You played a long show tonight. Figured you could use a treat.” The look on the bard’s face was akin to that of a child in a shop of sweets, and Geralt couldn’t help his grin. “C’mon, dig in.”

They sat at the table and took their first forkfuls of the dessert at the same time, Geralt watching with amusement as Jaskier’s eyes rolled back in his head.

“Oh, this is _exquisite_. So rich and gratifying.”

“Mhm. Tasty,” Geralt agreed around a mouthful.

They finished the soufflé in relative silence, save for Jaskier’s delighted little hums. Once every last crumb was gone and their forks were down, he finally spoke.

“That was quite the confection. Thank you, Geralt.”

Geralt rose from his seat. “No need to thank me. Besides, I have something else for you.”

Jaskier blinked in surprise. “The soufflé was plenty, Geralt, what else could you possibly have for me?” he asked while he followed the witcher to where he was retrieving something from the drawer of the nightstand.

“It’s… if you don’t like it, I can take it back or something.”

Jaskier touched Geralt’s elbow, the tips of his fingers briefly clutching into the crook of his arm. “Show me.”

Geralt turned to face Jaskier and held out a small faceted bottle with a silver atomizer. The bottle contained a translucent azure liquid with small gold flecks swirling within. It actually matched Jaskier’s outfit, Geralt noticed at that moment, but he hadn’t planned that.

Jaskier awed over it as he took it from Geralt. “Such a beautiful bottle,” he commented. “You got me perfume?”

Geralt looked just a tinge embarrassed as he attempted to explain himself. “I know how you like your, um… fragrance stuff. The shopkeeper called it ‘Nuits de Beauclair.’”

Jaskier held the bottle near the left side of his neck and gave the atomizer a soft pinch. A small amount of perfume spritzed into the air and against his skin. A quiet inhale, and then Jaskier was smiling at Geralt. “I love it.”

“Blue lotus flower, Nazairi basil, winter cherry, rich mahogany. That’s what’s in it.”

Jaskier smiled wider. “I bet you didn’t need the shopkeeper to tell you that, did you?”

“The merchant was insufficient. He couldn’t smell the cherry.”

Jaskier laughed and set the bottle down. “Well, I can. And I love it. Geralt, thank you so much. But…” He gestured to the perfume, the empty soufflé dish, one of the vases of honeysuckle. “…What brought this on?”

Geralt stepped closer. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” Jaskier asked with genuine curiosity.

Geralt looked down at his feet. “I’m… not good with social stuff. Talking. Emotion. But I observe.” He looked back up at Jaskier. “It probably seems like I don’t notice things that have nothing to do with my contracts, but I do. I noticed everything you’ve done for me. Helping me with my swords, with Roach, my tense muscles. Making sure I eat, drink enough water. Bandaging my wounds. Wanted you to know I appreciate it.”

Jaskier’s smile was a small and sheepish thing. “It’s nothing, really,” he said. And then his eyes were widening as Geralt took his hands into his own.

“Those gestures are not nothing. They mean a lot. And I know you could do those for anyone, but you do them for me. And I don’t deserve it. But still, it’s for me. And I just… hmm. Thank you, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s thumbs stroked over Geralt’s fingers. “Is this why you’ve been acting strangely? And why you left the performance so early? You were planning this?”

“Acting strangely? I was brooding like you say I always do.”

Jaskier gave a surprised laugh. “You mean to tell me you were brooding on purpose? Intentionally?”

“I thought if I didn’t brood, you’d get suspicious.”

Jaskier grinned. “Instead I just fretted over you for no reason.” He squeezed Geralt’s hands. “Well. You do deserve it. And it is my honor.”

Geralt stepped somehow closer. “Like to continue thanking you.”

Jaskier’s lashes batted as he blinked twice in time with the flutter in his chest. “Goodness. I don’t know what could possibly compete with the soufflé and the perfume.” He tried to be tongue-in-cheek with his quip, but even his masterful acting skills couldn’t cover the anticipation in his voice.

Geralt leaned in to brush his lips against Jaskier’s in a silent question of permission, and the bard weakened at the unexpected softness of Geralt’s mouth. The witcher hadn’t even kissed him yet and his knees were near buckling.

“Ah. Yes, I believe that may have the potential.”

That soft mouth smirked before it took Jaskier’s bottom lip between its own, gently, so gently. Jaskier let go of Geralt’s hands to wrap his arms around the witcher’s waist as he returned the kiss. Geralt placed one hand on Jaskier’s hip and the other on the back of his head, the pads of his fingers caressing umber strands.

Jaskier’s lips parted to breathe a sigh into Geralt’s mouth, and then the break and reclaim began; short but ardent kisses pressed firm, moist lips making soft smacks as they parted for a mere second before repeating the pattern several times.

The tongue suddenly sliding in to meet Jaskier’s sent the bard reeling. One hand clutched at the fabric of Geralt’s half-open shirt, knuckles pressing into a hard pec as he thrust his own tongue forward. Shared moans resounded as they tasted one another, notes of cocoa and Est Est delighting their senses.

Geralt released Jaskier’s mouth after a time to leave a wet trail along his jaw, freezing in place with a shudder when he reached the bard’s neck. He’d been able to smell the Nuits de Beauclair all along, but it wasn’t until he had his nose pressed to the bit of skin where Jaskier had spritzed the fragrance above the doublet’s collar that it began to affect him in a delicious way. Mixed with the musician’s pheromones and the dizzying scent of his arousal, the fine perfume created not just an olfactory pleasantry but a full-on sensation that traveled straight to the witcher’s cock when inhaled.

The witcher’s hips gave a slight buck forward and Jaskier gave a soft whine as he felt Geralt’s hardness rub against his own through their clothes. Jaskier’s hands slid down to cup the globes of Geralt’s ass and pull him closer in encouragement. Geralt burred just two little words against that neck that had the bard’s cock twitching and his voice groaning with the yearning he’d kept in for so long.

_“Need you.”_

Nimble fingers tugged at the white shirt and Geralt stood straight while Jaskier’s mouth peppered tiny kisses to his chest as he eased the witcher’s shirt off one shoulder, then again in the other direction as he unclothed the other shoulder. Geralt made quick work of tugging the shirt off and tossing it somewhere, then he set to undoing the silver fastenings of Jaskier’s doublet as Jaskier moved on to Geralt’s leathers. They broke away to kick off boots and shuck down trousers and smalls before Geralt spun them around and walked Jaskier back until his legs came in contact with the mattress.

Geralt’s hands slipped under the fabric of the open doublet and pushed it off Jaskier, the bard letting it drop to the floor. His palms splayed across Jaskier’s flat stomach and began to push the shirt up, pausing when Jaskier emitted a bit off moan. Glancing down at where his hand had brushed against the bard’s chest, Geralt realized what he must have touched to elicit such a reaction. He dropped his hands back down just far enough to reach the nipples with his thumbs and brush against them with intent. Another bit off moan, with a shiver this time.

“Do you like that?” Geralt whispered, smiling at Jaskier’s frantic nod and the rosy hue on his cheeks. “Oh, fun,” he quoted the bard before he held the shirt up with one hand, his mouth latching onto one bud at the same time as his other hand toyed with its twin.

Jaskier panted and bucked and _keened_ as fingers and tongue played with his nipples, teasing, tweaking, flicking, licking, and then _sucking_ , oh dear gods, the sucking. A tender nip was felt, and then Jaskier’s ass hit the bed as his knees buckled.

“Chamomile oil… my pack…” Jaskier panted.

By the time Geralt retrieved it, the bard was on all fours, hands gripping the footboard, shirt still on.

“Cold?” Geralt asked as he sat on the mattress behind Jaskier.

“Only a bit.”

“Hmm.” Geralt uncorked the oil and slicked his fingers. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.”

The preparation was unhurried; Geralt took the time to thoroughly lubricate and stretch the tight muscle, watching with admiration how beautifully Jaskier opened for him like a buttercup blooming. When he deemed it enough, Geralt slicked his cock with some of the oil before setting the bottle on the nightstand and wiping his hand on the sheet.

“How do you want this, Jaskier?”

“A-Any way, any at all,” came the response, quaking with arousal.

Geralt huffed an amused breath through his nose. “I’m expressing my gratitude to you, Jaskier. You get to choose.”

A quick moment for thought, and then Jaskier was rising and backing himself up against Geralt. His hands dug into Geralt’s thighs as held his hips above Geralt’s cock. The witcher pressed the tip against Jaskier’s entrance and allowed the bard to lower himself at his own pace. The tight hug of his heat and the sound of the quick, sharp breaths he emitted caused Geralt’s mouth to fall agape, his bottom lip tracing a glistening line as it ran up Jaskier’s back while the bard sank onto his cock.

Jaskier cried out as he took in Geralt to the hilt, allowing him to bear his weight. Never before had he felt so full, so entirely replete. There wasn’t a single nerve ending, a single pleasure spot in those walls untouched by the silken hardness of Geralt’s cock. A shuddering sigh escaped him as he held there, thinking how he couldn’t possibly feel more amazing than he did in that moment.

And then Geralt started moving.

It wasn’t full thrusting, just languid little beats of his hips. The chamomile eased the drag and push so what Jaskier felt contained not discomfort but a rush of pleasure that surged through his body, waves of euphoria washing over him each time the witcher’s member pressed into the deepest point of his passage.

Declarations of fondness and filth flowed legato from Jaskier’s golden larynx, a litany for his companion, friend, protector, lover… anything and everything Geralt was to him. He felt Geralt smiling against his neck before forging a trail of kisses up to the spot behind his ear.

“I don’t have a way with words like you do,” Geralt told Jaskier before licking the shell of his ear. “If I did, I could go on in great detail about how incredible it feels to be inside you.”

Jaskier moaned as his cock gave a twitch in response. “Your words may not be florid, but the ones you just spoke shall never depart from my memory.”

Geralt exhaled a soft grunt against Jaskier’s shoulder and drew himself out a bit further to allow a proper thrust. Jaskier gasped as the head of Geralt’s cock brushed against his prostate, the walls of his heat clenching around that cock in antiphon.

“Jaskier, _fuck_ ,” Geralt moaned. He pushed Jaskier’s shirt up to bare his chest and began playing with his nipples again, rolling and pinching the perky buds betwixt dexterous fingers. Jaskier’s cock began dribbling pre-come, the glistening substance catching Geralt’s eye. “So _sensitive_ ,” he purred as he buried his face in the crook of Jaskier’s neck, nosing at the collar of his doublet to best inhale his fragrance. His fingers tugged and pinched harder at Jaskier’s nipples. “You deserve this pleasure, Jaskier. You’re so good to me. So sexy for me.”

The bard began crying out repeatedly, completely unabashed. It was too much and not enough all at once, and Melitele be damned if the inn’s nobility was perturbed about hearing him. They could be haughty about their wealth and etiquette all they liked, they damned sure weren’t having sex _this good._

A big hand came up to his mouth and Jaskier assumed its intent was to silence, so imagine his surprise when Geralt’s index and middle fingers bordered his lips rather than pressed over them. “Wet them,” came Geralt’s command and Jaskier gave another harsh cry before sticking his tongue out, laving the fingers. His cheeks bore a deep, ruddy blush and beads of sweat began to roll from various points on his body as he realized the reason for Geralt’s request. But Jaskier was at the cusp of the crest and Geralt didn’t seem to be there yet.

“G-Geralt, n-not yet… I’m so close…”

The witcher gave a chuckle, a hint of mischief tinting the amusement. “What makes you think you’re only going to come once?” Geralt inquired before biting down against Jaskier’s trapezius muscle through the fabric of his shirt.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Jaskier bellowed, back arching, head thrown back against Geralt’s shoulder. His untouched cock jumped thrice as he came, long spurts of come arcing out and spattering onto the footboard.

“ _Gods_ ,” Geralt sighed before yanking on Jaskier’s shirt, the thin garment tearing in halves, gossamer linens fluttering to the floor. The bard seemed too deep into the sweet throes of pleasure at the moment to care, but Geralt was sure he’d hear about it later. Though he couldn’t ponder it long with the way Jaskier kept rocking against him the way he was.

Jaskier was overstimulated but he couldn’t stop rolling his hips, emitting soft whimpers, pushing through it for a craving that was simply too strong to ignore.

Geralt’s own hips slowed slightly. “Jaskier, is it too much?”

“Yes,” Jaskier respired, reaching a hand back to Geralt’s hip to urge him on. “But don’t stop. Thank me _more_.”

Geralt’s brow furrowed briefly but he noticed Jaskier’s cock was already halfway there. Impressed with the refractory, he splayed his right hand over Jaskier’s chest and continued as requested, reining in his speed and desire to thrust _hard_ in favor of the bard’s comfort for the moment.

Jaskier emitted quick pants as he bounced over Geralt, working through his sensitivity until the feeling broke and he had the head of that thick cock rubbing exactly where it needed to. His breathing became a cadence of inward hitches as Geralt’s cock rubbed against his prostate, the sound and feel of it drawing a luxurious moan from the witcher.

With his resistance waning, Geralt reached over Jaskier’s right shoulder and circled his fingers around his cock. His grip was stuttered into, and then Geralt’s hand began gliding up and down the shaft. The remaining essence of Jaskier’s first orgasm and the pre-come that foretold of his second coated his cock as it was spread around by the witcher’s warm palm.

Jaskier’s right hand lifted to rest on Geralt’s upper arm, letting the witcher know he wished him to continue. His moans came sweetly, little coos and rasps composing a melody just for Geralt.

The witcher smiled against his neck and gently brushed against Jaskier’s nipple with his free hand. “Yes. Sing for me, my nightingale.”

Jaskier exhaled a delighted, breathy chuckle. “I’ve been compared to other songbirds in my time… but never a nightingale. Might I know why?”

Geralt’s lips lifted to Jaskier’s ear, a rumbling moan buzzing against the lobe. “Nightingales _croon_ ,” he answered, punctuating his reply with a deep, hard thrust.

“ _Ohhh!_ Geralt, _yes!_ Thank me _harder!_ ” Jaskier cried, his other hand reaching for the back of Geralt’s head, fingers weaving into and clutching the silver-white locks.

Geralt took that moment while his head was being pulled back to take in the sight of the bard in his lap – ass working against his cock, a light sheen of perspiration covering his smooth skin, thighs trembling with the intensity of his desire. The witcher practically beamed with pride.

“There it is… the penultimate to the climax. Gods, look at you.”

Jaskier could only react with the compression of his fingernails into Geralt’s arm, his hips bucking helplessly as Geralt thrust hard, so hard into his welcoming heat.

“Let’s hear you hit that final note,” Geralt coaxed, finally sliding his thumb over the head of Jaskier’s cock, his callous brushing across the slit.

Jaskier’s entire body tensed, veins alight with a tempest of pleasure. His voice was positively dulcet when he shouted Geralt’s name to the heavens as every drop of come he had left shot out with the force of his orgasm. He gave Geralt’s hair a tug as his cock gave its last twitch.

The witcher’s head tipped back with the pull and he gasped. “ _Jas!_ ” Geralt cried as he gave a final powerful thrust, stilling the rest of his body as his cock pulsed a copious amount of come into the bard.

Geralt barely had time to catch his breath before Jaskier’s body went limp, and he was quick to catch him in his arms, wrapping them around his panting chest. Once the bard’s breathing had calmed, Geralt opened his eyes and looked ahead of them, his lips curling into a smirk.

“You didn’t tell me you were also a painter.”

Jaskier’s eyes blinked open in confusion until they set upon the drying spatters on the footboard, and he gave a weak chortle. “You can clear the canvas with the remnants of my shirt.”

“Sorry about that.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hair tickling Geralt’s shoulder. “I couldn’t care less about the shirt. It’s the doublet I’d have murdered you for.”

Geralt grinned. “After the sex, of course.”

“Pshaw. Obviously.”

Geralt kissed Jaskier’s sweaty temple and helped the bard lift himself up before they both collapsed onto the mattress, facing each other. Jaskier took Geralt’s face in his hands and kissed his mouth, soft and quick. Geralt brushed a few damp strands of hair from the bard’s forehead.

“That was incredible, Jaskier.”

“I know, I was there,” Jaskier mused. “If that’s how you’d like to express your gratitude from now on, then by all means.”

“I… hoped it would all come across. It took a long time to think of what to do, what to say to you. What with how flawed I am in the realm of emotions.”

Jaskier shook his head with a smile. “You’re not flawed, my darling,” he assured Geralt, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Merely a little under-rehearsed.” He leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “But I am ever your biggest fan.”

Geralt closed his eyes and breathed in Jaskier’s scent. “I’m grateful for it. For you.”

They kissed leisurely until they drifted off, well-sated and well-appreciated.


End file.
